


Wine, Women, and the Workplace

by NothingTame



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 02:14:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NothingTame/pseuds/NothingTame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm having a very hard time reconciling the Lorik Qui'in I work for with the Lorik Qui'in that's staring at me right now. Granted, the lack of clothes (mine, not his) was definitely unusual and so was being pinned against a wall, but that's besides the point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wine, Women, and the Workplace

**Author's Note:**

> 2014 MassEffect Kinkmeme's People's Choice Award for Best Het Story Without Shepard as a Main Character!!! HOLY SHIT GUYS. THANK YOU!!!

I'm having a very hard time reconcilling the Lorik Qui'in I work for with the Lorik Qui'in that's staring at me right now. Granted, the lack of clothes (mine, not his) was definitely unusual and so was being pinned against a wall, but that's besides the point.

 

Lorik Qui'in was _the_ epitome of refined, Turian aristocracy,

 

He was always so very straight-laced, careful in his walk, spine straight, never moving more than was necessary. He even did this with a datapad in his hand, reading away, and he'd pause to step aside so someone faster could pass him, or hold open a door for a person traveling through. He even knew when I managed to catch up to him, my omni-tool lit, out of breath, and would kindly begin anew to recite his schedule for the day.

  
As his personal assistant, it was my job to make sure he wasn't over-burdened, to organize the details of the port and to make sure everything ran smoothly. It was, thankfully, not a one-sided situation; my resume was heavy with such instances, all but doing everything my employers' were supposed to do themselves. While these made great references, the memories were too exhaustive to even revisit.

 

Working with the Administrator felt incredibly easy and nothing like actual 'work'. I was intensely proud of what I did for him, satisfied on a level I had never been before. He in return was quite appreciative of me; it borderlined on inappropriate, but in all honesty, that didn't bother me a bit.

  
He was tall, taller than most Turians but broad in the shoulder. His waist was so lean, supple but supportive, and he had such long legs. His grace, as I mentioned, was something I hadn't seen in his species before, but a quick chat with the garage watchman informed me that it was particular to the class of family Lorik Qui'in came from.

  
"...not that we are partial to a social class structure as I've read with you humans," Lilihierax drawled. "But politics and the Qui'ins go hand in hand. You've never heard a bunch of smooth talkers in your life as you have them. They ooze charisma and they always, always get their way. I heard the Administrator even managed to go toe to toe with the insufferable Commander Shepard. The Reapers gone these few years, they're still friends. You've heard how much a pain in the ass _she_ can be, and maybe even more of a negotiator than our Qui'in."

  
Right. Not that I was checking up on him or anything.

  
I did find out, however, that he had a weakness I'd been unaware of before he hired me. In fact, if I'd known I probably wouldn't have applied.

  
No, not because I found it distasteful. Quite the opposite, and that was the problem; a taste for human women in a Turian male I found painfully attractive was a sure sign of trouble. For _me._

  
And, you know, it's not appropriate for an insubordinate to find her boss attractive but it's even worse to actually _fraternize_ with him.

  
But I wanted to. Very badly. Especially after the 'strawberry incident'.

 

* * *

 

  
Lorik Qui'in was a very generous employer. Once a month, he hosted an all-day interspecies buffet for his employees, catering to everyone's favorite foods and dietary restrictions. It was basically a holiday, zero work got done and we all spent our time talking, eating, and doing whatever we could to keep up the pretense of productivity.

  
We really didn't need to. Our set up was flawless, nothing slipped through the cracks. All thanks to our Administrator.

  
I've heard his predecessor was a nightmare, and mopping up that mess was a feat in and of itself. It was before my time but I've heard people swear by it everyday. It makes it all the more impressive that we run so smoothly now.

  
The last few times they'd held the food fest, I'd been up to my eyeballs in reports to finish and hadn't managed to crawl out from behind my desk until well after midnight. The last time I'd done this, the Administrator, to my surprise, had been lurking in the lobby outside his offices.

  
Legs crossed, elbow on the arm of the chair, chin resting on his hand. He was staring at me, eyes sparkling with ... something, mandibles fluttering in amusement. His voice, however, was completely at odds with his relaxed demeanor.

  
"I don't pay overtime, _Miss_ Farrows," he growled, not a hint of humor in his words. "You know better than to stay after hours without my permission."

  
To say my whole body tightened in fear would be a gross understatement, as well as a bit of a lie; it wasn't only fear that made my muscles clench. But he couldn't know that, a confidence that had my chin lifting and my eyes unflinching from his gaze.

  
"I had some things to finish, sir," I commented casually, making my way over to him. "Today was a good day to steal time and get it all done." Remembering something he'd said a several weeks ago, after I'd been here only a little over a month, I smiled as I sat on the couch perpindicular to his chair. "I knew you'd catch me eventually, though. You aren't going to be as impressed with my ability to forsee and anticipate your every command now that you know how I do it."

  
"You missed all the food," he drawled, his voice mellowing out somewhat. "And this is the second time I've brought in your favorite and have you not attend."

  
I flinched. "I had no idea," I blushed, having the grace to look ashamed. "I'm sorry, Administrator, if I'd known you'd gone through such troub-"

  
His shifting caught my attention. He placed a bowl of the prettiest, juiciest strawberries I had ever seen in his lap.

  
I think there may have been drool on my part.

  
Laughing, he held it out to me with one hand, head still propped up on his other. "Luckily, you humans seem to share a love of sweet fruits. I had no problem getting rid of them last time, but that wasn't the point."

  
"S-sir," I stuttered. "These must have cost-"

  
He waved a hand, as he always did, when it came to giving his employees every benefit he could muster. "We have a hydroponics lab attached to one of the organics compounds in the fifth zone over the mountain range. It didn't cost as much as you think."

  
I stared at him. "How long have they been growing strawberries?"

  
"About twelve weeks, give or take."

  
"Sir? That's about how long it's been since you accepted my employment."

  
"Oh? I hadn't noticed."

  
My lips quirked, a half-smile stealing across my face before I could stop myself. "Favortism isn't at all professional, sir."

  
"Shut up and eat a damn strawberry, Miss _Farrows_."

  
I grinned at his tone and went about selecting the biggest 'damn strawberry' I could find. It turned out to be a narrow thing with the usual rounded pyramid shape, longer than squat and a rich red color. The length of my thumb, it came to a sharp tip that curved up a little. I held it up for Lorik's inspection.

  
"Does this meet your approval, sir?" I intoned, the same voice I used when asking him for permission to schedule a meeting. "Or should I choose another?"

  
He stared at the fruit, unusually still and even more uncommonly tense. Blinking, I opened my mouth to ask what was wrong, when he visibly shook himself and went back to looking amused.

  
"No, please, carry on, Miss Farrows," he murmured. There was laughter in his voice; I couldn't help but wonder why.

  
With a mental shrug, I brought the strawberry to my lips, pushing the tip in a dozen centimeters or so, clenching my jaw slowly to take a long, careful bite.

  
When my teeth pierced the flesh, my eyes closed as the sweet juice flooded across my tongue, modest when compared to oranges or mangos but perfectly proportionate to the more subtle flavor of the berry. I _almost_ muffled the moan that came from me, my lips cupping the shape of the fruit as I eased it in another few centimeters. My cheeks hollowed out as I suckled, making sure as not to waste a single drop.

  
I came back to myself an eternity later, chewing slowly, rubbing the fruit's masticated flesh against the roof of my mouth to savor the taste. _Gods, I can't remember the last time I'd had a strawberry, especially not one this good_.

 

My pleasure was short-lived, however, as I glanced over to the Turian seated next to me.

  
His shoulders were tight, his hands, both of them, digging into the arms of the chair as he stared at my mouth and the berry that hovered before it. His mandibles were drawn in, not like he was disgusted but like he was struggling with a decision, an expression I only recognized from the months of hearing him negotiate lease contracts and landing rights.

  
Blinking, my hand dropped down a little. "...sir?" I questioned, frowning with concern.

  
With a quiver that radiated from fringe to knees, and possibly his toes, he wrenched his eyes from my mouth to my gaze, blinking a few times. Like a mantle of control settling over him, his lines grew lax and he leaned back, letting his talons unclench from the chair. He smiled slowly and shook his head.

  
"Please, don't stop on my account," he murmured graciously, rocking to his feet in that liquid way of his.

  
He swept up my free hand and bowed over it, mandibles flickering as he held my eyes with his. "Enjoy your treat, Miss Farrows. You've more than earned it."

  
And then he was walking away, leaving me frozen in my chair, as still as the ice mountains outside our many windows to watch his steady gait as he strode to the elevator that led to his personal living suite.

  
A few minutes later, I'd decided that it would probably be best if I finished my bowl of treasures in the privacy of my quarters. As I got up, my eyes were drawn back to the armrests of Lorik's chair.

  
His talons had pierced the upholstery down to the frame beneath, leaving six evenly spaced gouges in the dully glinting, metal skeleton of the chair.

 

* * *

  
After that, it got more difficult to work with the focus I had previously maintained. I swear, though, it wasn't my fault. Not once.

  
For one thing, I was apparently more clumsy than ever. I kept finding my pens on the floor, or one of my three essential datapads, the corners peeking out from a desk that I'd been working on earlier that day. And while I could swear I'd had all of my items together when I switched stations, it never seemed to fail that I'd left something behind, always on the floor and half under some random piece of furniture.

  
On my knees and bent over for the fifth time that month, I grumbled under my breath as I fumbled for my financial manifest. Usually, I'd just bend over and pick it up, but today, I didn't feel like suffering from the vertigo with my head practically hanging upside down. My unwillingness to deal with a little casual discomfort came with some clarity, however; kneeling down, I spotted movement out of the corner of my eye. 

  
Lorik had been watching me from the doorway of his office, one eye peeking around the edge of the doorframe as he stood there, enjoying whatever view it was he was getting. But in a flash, he'd moved on, like I'd caught him mid-stride or half-way through a turn.

  
I went stiff with surprise and then hot with embarassment. It was then that I began to wonder if maybe I hadn't lost my focus or my customary office prowess, that maybe he was-

  
I shook my head and laughed at myself.

  
_Right. And maybe a band of  Salarian burlesque dancers will drop out of the sky._

  
"-but that's why we have such regulations, Madam Tradeswoman, so that there is no conflict of interest and-"

  
A female voice, stressed and agitated, carried through behind the stomping figure of a bristling Batarian woman. The owner of the voice was an Asari maiden by the name of Hanna, a customs agent at the main docks, who followed in the wake of the irritated ambassador.

  
My eyes met Lorik's for the briefest moment, a look passing between us as the smile faded from his features. He stepped aside to let the angry Batarian into his office, keying the sound barrier into place just before the yelling started, the tell-tale shimmer cutting off the first notes of displeasure.

  
I didn't even notice, though; all I could think about was that last knowing look. Somehow, I knew, _knew_  that he'd been 'sabotaging' me this whole time.

  
_That sneaky son of a-_

  
Well. Alright then. If that was how he was going to play it.

 

* * *

 

  
The next day was the luncheon for that month, and again I decided to forgo the affair regardless of what happened the last time. Actually, it'd be more accurate to say because of it.

  
As usual, the Administrator didn't come in that day, claiming his presence would ruin the mood he was trying to encourage. It was why it was such a good time to catch up; I didn't have him peering over my shoulder wondering what I'd let slip by over the last four weeks.

  
I stayed late again. After many hours of plugging away at the reports I'd left unfinished, I finally paused to stretch my limbs and check the time.

  
 _Wow_ , I winced, staring at the display. _I need to start setting an alarm or something. Bed at 0200 when I get up at 0700 is not a good thing. I never do well without a full seven hours of sleep._

  
Rubbing my face to invigorate myself enough to clean up, I headed into Lorik's office to power off the mainframe after saving the data from today.

  
I don't _even_ remember nodding off.

  
I was watching the upload progress, cheek in my palm, and the next thing I knew there were hands gripping my shoulders.

  
It was a firm grip, insistent but gentle. "Miss Farrows," came the cultured murmur of my employer.

  
"Administrator!" I gasped. I was up and turning around before I could stop myself, chair rolling away and world spinning all at once.

  
I was falling backwards, an eternity of chagrin as I thought in a flash: _Great, I'm going to knock my head on the edge of a desk and die. God dammit._

  
But in the midst of my backward lament, Lorik's arms shot out to grab my waist, large hands splaying out across my lower back and spine. He pulled me close, my body still angled, eyes as wide as mine as we stared at each other.

  
The stark white of his markings against his sable hide is an intense thing to behold, framing piercing eyes that are full of wisdom, humor, and a potent intelligence.

  
 _... I wonder what they'd look like if he lost all that refined control_ , my treacherous brain imagined before I could stop it.

  
He broke the gaze first, clearing his throat and righting me. "Are you alright, Miss Farrows?" he asked, dusting off my arms, his touch lingering on my body.

  
I nodded, tanking a step back and glancing at the time display on my omni-tool. I swore.

  
"Five in the- I slept here all night?" I groaned, running a hand over my face. _Today is going to be hell._

  
"Well..." I bit back my internal chatter before it came out of my mouth. "Yes, I'm fine, I just lost track of time last night. Yesterday. Both. Sir." I fussed with my hair and checked over my uniform. _Do I have a change of-...? I do! In my desk, I have-_

  
"You were here all night?" he asked, following me out to the front office and my own console.

  
I nodded, wincing internally. "It was the luncheon and I needed to get caught up... I mean, there were some issues that weren't critical and I waited until I had some free time at work to finish them." I began to dig in my file cabinet for my bag of clean clothes, turning to face him but busying myself so I didn't need to look him in the eye. Yet. "You don't want us working on our off days, so it just seemed ... to be ... a good time to..."

  
With every word he was walking closer, slowly, each step deliberate and almost menacing as he approached. By the last word, I was staring up at him, my ass bumping against the edge of the desk, eyes wide, anxiety blooming low through my belly.

  
_Oh god please don't fire me-_

  
"Why can't you finish them when you are supposed to get them done, Miss Farrows?"

  
It was the tone of voice I hated; quiet and calm, like my father before he laid into me for not trying hard enough in school.

  
I licked my lips, they suddenly felt dry. "I get ninety percent of my work done when it's due, Administrator. The last ten percent is mostly dotting i's and crossing t's..." I saw the confusion flicker across his face, and remembered who I was talking to.

  
_Turians. Right._

  
I cleared my throat and tried again. "Er, rather, the last ten percent is getting rid of the bodies and filing the incident reports."

  
Understanding dawned in his eyes and I had to fight the urge to laugh. _Yep. Frakkin' Turians._

  
He peered down at me for a few heartbeats, seeming to consider something as we stood there. Just before I melted into a full blown panic attack, his whole posture changed and he shiffted to pull up his omni-tool.

  
"What are you doing tonight, Ms. Farrows?" he asked, tones polite and mellow.

  
I blinked at him. "Uh.... you mean, besides sleeping? Sir?"

  
"Yes. Do you have any plans?"

  
"Well, tomorrow is my day off so ..." I blanched at his glare. I cleared my throat again.

 

 _Dammit, this man makes me nervous._ "Ah. Nothing I can't change. Why, sir?"

 _I knew it. He was going to punish me by making me work through another night. This was going to be a rotten day alright. Maybe I could sneak in a power nap at lunch and then again maybe right after work?_ My optimisim was enough to make even me nauseous. _Right. And Reapers will fly out of my-_

 

  
"Assuming you survive the day with minimal injury," he rumbled, "I'd like to take you out to dinner."

  
"I don't even have a- " I blinked. _Wait. What?_   "Dinner? Me? What for?" 

  
He did that adorable mandible flicker that translated into an amused smile. With a few taps to his 'tool, he closed the interface.

"Well, I'd imagine good food, conversation, and maybe even a few drinks. If ... that's alright with you, Ms. Farrows? I already set up a reservation but I'm sure I can cancel it. The Sable Lotus has a very diverse cuisine, though, and I'm sure we can find something to suit the both of us."

  
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Cuisine? Reservation? _Conversation?_

  
"I ... I ..." I began, trying to scrounge up my brain bits and put them back together to form a coherent response.

  
The Administrator looked very pleased. "Good. Now, if you'd go home and come back after the lunch break, you can finish the day and then I'll meet you at the restaurant at, say... 2000 hours?"

  
My mouth worked. I know my vocal cords worked, but god dammit, not then. After a few seconds of my jaw dropping open and closed several times, he nodded to me and satisfaction and, gripping my shoulders, turned me towards the door out of the office and handed me my bag.

"Wonderful. I'll see you then. Sleep well, Ms. Farrows."

  
"Um... yes, you too. Sir. I guess."  _I think?_

 

* * *

 

That was how I ended up dressed to the nines, as the old saying goes, walking through the port city proper in heels and my favorite dress.

  
Nice clothing can be like armor, especially when it's well-made and your favorite color. Hardly the typical human shape, I do enjoy flaunting my physical traits to great advantage, and while the heels brought me up a little higher, my dress exaggerated every curve I had. It's even my favorite shade of deep, lovely violet.

  
Remembering something I'd read ~~in Fornax~~ on the extranet about Turians and their sense of smell, I didn't use any perfume or scented oils. Naked pheremones were something Turians found appealing; it was like wearing a sheer dress with black lace underwear or flashing the fact that you weren't wearing panties. I figured if he was taking me out to dinner and not at all worried about what the world would think of it given that he'd asked me to a place as public and well-known as the Sable Lotus, showcasing my very definite interest in him wouldn't hurt.

  
And if it was just a night out to promote me, or fire me, maybe he'd be more inclined to do the former and not so much the latter.

  
I was early. I didn't want to drink at the bar or sit by myself, so I stood outside the venue before one of the large windows Hanshan boasts, gazing out into the brewing storm. It was the time of year when the sun sets late, the sky silver with clouds and the fading light as the heavens wept white flakes that grew thicker as time went on.

  
"I _hate_ the cold."

  
I glanced at Lorik's reflection in the window, returning his smile with one of my own. Turning, I tilted my head at him.

  
"Then why are you here and not some place warmer?" I asked, taking his offered arm, ignoring the flare of his nostrils and the surprise in his eyes.  I let my smile turn a little smug even as I matched his graceful stride. "Noveria is not someplace someone goes if they prefer heat and sunshine," I continued. "Neither of those things happen very often here."

  
His smile returned and he inclined his head in polite assent, saying nothing else until we were seated in a secluded corner in the dim, posh interior of the restaurant. He ordered drinks for us both before continuing the conversation from outside.

  
"While I hate the cold," he intoned, his voice soft but words clear, "I enjoy the isolation. The only people that come here are scientists and those that seek to support them, so it limits my interaction with society to either the very driven or the very intelligent. Often, it's a little bit of both."

  
"So, is that what you love here?"

  
"Excuse me?"

  
"Well, you told me what you hated. Are the people why you love it?" I sipped my drink. "Oooh. I like this."

  
"Mmm, I aim to please."

  
I looked at him sharply. _Is he ...? No..._ I cleared my throat.

"You didn't answer my question, Mr. Qui'in."

  
I watched those long, tapered fingers toy with the stem of his wineglass as he considered for a moment. It was, again, difficult not to imagine what his touch would feel like against my skin, maybe in my hair, gently brushing aside my curls _with his claws to press his mouth into my neck-_

  
"I think you're right," he said at last, yanking me from my fantasy. "Perhaps thee people _are_ what I love about this place." He took a drink. "And you, Miss Farrows? What do _you_ love about Noveria?"

  
 _My, this stuff is potent._ I could practically feel my brain un-sticking from the inside of my skull. I took another sip. "That's an easy question," I replied cheerfully. "I love my job _and_ the cold."

  
"And?" he prompted. God, I loved his voice. It was like ... _satin and gravel. With chocolate. Wrapped in velvet._

  
"And... what, Mr. Qui'in?" I asked, opening my eyes wide in mock-innocence. Another sip. "This is so good. Wow."

  
"That's not fair, Miss Farrows."

  
"Neither is life, Mr. Qui'in," I quipped back with a chuckle. I brought my glass to my lips only to find it empty. I glared at it. "Hmph. And then there is _this_. An empty glass. I hate having an empty glass. See? I'm an open book, zero mystery to me."

  
He laughed, a full-throated, reverberating sound that went straight to my hips. _Oh goodness_ , I thought. _No more drinks on an empty stomach_. He waved over a server and had my glass refilled. I made a great show of perking up and taking only the tiniest sip.

At his questioning glance, I said, "Food first, and then more refilled glasses."

  
"Why, are you on your way to getting intoxicated, Miss Farrows?" he practically purred.

  
"Is that your plan? To get me drunk and seduce me?"

  
He huffed indignantly, pressing a hand to his chest and trying his best to looked offended. "Me? Hardly. Like I'd even need to get you drunk to seduce you."

  
So candid, I had the good grace to blush. I watched his nostrils flare again and blushed harder. He smiled.

  
"Mmm. As I thought," he murmured. He reached across the table and took away my glass, ignoring my stumbling protests and capturing my intercepting hand with his own. I couldn't help going tense with surprise.

  
" _Ah_ ... Mr. Qui-" I began.

  
"Lorik," he purred, sliding closer to me in the booth, pressing against my side. Even seated he was half a head taller than me, forcing me to tilt my head back to keep his gaze.

  
My eyes were wide. _I'm being ambushed!_ I thought, but then I considered that it might be impossible to ambush the willing.

_Or could it? Oh my. Oh god, is that his hand on my thigh-_

  
"Have I misread your interest?" he whispered, pausing in his caress. I groaned in disappointment and squirmed closer to him. His concern was replaced with relief, and then amusement as I wriggled my hips next to his, all but hooking my knee over his thigh.

"Ah," he breathed. "I see I have not."

He drew his other hand up my arm, over my shoulder and hooking a finger into the strap of my dress. I moaned softly, flushed with heat and sudden arousal as he drew the slim scrap of fabric over, across, and slowly down my shoulder.

  
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was thankful for the seclusion our table offered as my employer, my boss, my _Lorik,_  stroked careful, sharp teeth along the edge of my clavicle and across my skin towards my arm. By the time he suggested we take our dinner back to his place, I was a quivering, blushing, panting mess, nodding so hard my hair was in complete dissary around my head.

  
The walk to his skycar sobered me up a little, and as he opened the door, I drew him up short. He blinked at me, squeezing my hand.

  
"Is something the matter, Miss Farrows?" Again, the concern on his face made something _squeeze_ in my chest. "Is this .... how do you say it? Is this too fast for you?"

  
As he stepped closer, peering down at me and brushing a stray lock from my cheek, I truly tried to consider what it was I was about to do: get in a car, go to his home, and let him do gods-knew-what to me, for as long as he wanted.

_And is this something I want?_

  
"No," I managed. Then, "Yes. I mean, I need to think. I just..." I ran my free hand through my hair, trying to rearrange my thoughts and think clearly for a second. "This ... what we're doing, what we're going to do... This isn't something that's generally acceptable in a human workplace."

  
He stared at me.

  
I sighed, rolling my eyes. "We don't generally encourage fraternization in the workplace, especially between a superior and a subordinate. It can cause issues with favoritism, emotional attachment, unprofessional behavior, pregnancy, feelings of entitlement, entrapment, unfair advanta-"

  
He gripped my face in both his hands and brought me to my toes in a mind-numbing, soul-searing kiss.

  
I'd forgotten that he'd finished his own drink ahead of me, remembering in that moment as I tasted the sharp tang of it on the tongue that swept past my defenses, invaded my mouth and stroked delicately along the inside of my lip. He tilted his head, mouthplates slanting, and drew my own tongue into his mouth, caressing it with very _sharp_ teeth.

  
I was trembling when he drew back.

  
"I am not human, _Miss_ Farrows," he breathed.

  
I had no idea why at the time, but in that instant those six little words completely destroyed my panties.

 

* * *

 

It was somehow decided that an automated skycar would do better than trying to drive; between the mutual distraction and the alcohol, it was just going to be safer that way.

  
He opted for the back seat and dragged me with him.

  
His instructions to the VI were brief before he was on me again. Three-fingered hands in my hair, mouth on mine, tongue invading deep and sweet as he pulled me to him, my legs over his thighs and my hands clutching at his collar.

  
Mental alarm bells went off, tiny and barely noticed in the back of my brain as I tried to reconcile the actions of this man with the employer I'd thought I knew. Try as I might, however, I couldn't focus on anything but what he was doing to me.

  
I felt a caress across my knee, felt it travel upward along the top of my leg before it strayed to the soft, sensitive skin on the inside of my thighs. I whimpered against his mouth, leg twitching to open further beneath his touch. With a growl of approval and a renewed exploration of my mouth, Lorik wasted no time develing further up my skirts.

  
His first caress across the soaked crotch of my panties had me arching in his arms, pulling my mouth from him as I gasped. His second touch was firmer, coaxing my hips to buck and my legs to open a little more. I felt teeth on my throat as he drew aside the fabric to trace a careful knuckle up and down the seam of my sex. I whimpered again, straining against him, begging him for more.

  
His chuckle reverberated against my throat, righting my clothes as he drew away. I whined in protest, blinking heavy lids and gazing at him in confusion.

  
"We're here," was all he said, tapping in his credits owed and drawing me out of the car.

  
There was a blur of shape and color as he dragged me from the skycar tunnel and through the door of his home, a compound held apart from the main port and substantially bigger thant he suite he usually maintained closer to work.

I remember seeing snow through the shields, the blizzard that was growing in force turning the air white with swirling ice, and then the doors snapped shut behind me and I was pressed against a glowing lock panel.

  
Teeth at my throat again, talons along my thighs going up, up, up, snagging my panties and drawing them down my legs. Quick digits undid buttons, fabric was drawn up and away and then I was completely naked.

  
And this is where my story started.

  
He'd dropped to his heels, pulling my hips to him until I was literally mounted on his face, gravity pressing me down into a tongue that wouldn't stop moving, swirling, licking, plunging. I was crying out, over and over, digging fingers into his shoulders and pleading with him for more, to _stop_ , to _let me breathe_ , to _do that_ thing _with your teeth again because oh god I love it-!_

  
After another orgasm I'd lost count of, my legs trembling and unable to support me anymore, I was swept up over his shoulder and carried into another room.

  
The bed I was dropped on was soft and liberally covered in pillows. Bleary eyed with bliss and exhaustion, I tried to find my lover, lifting my head and casting about. I saw movement, and then I felt those talons on my thighs again, drawing me open and pulling me to the edge of the mattress.

  
"Do you have any idea how long I've admired you, Miss Farrows?" he murmured, his voice gravel and liquid and _oh I might come again_. "You are the perfect assisstant; intelligent, fast, reliable... but _Spirits_ , woman. You, by far, are the _sexiest-"_

  
Something hot brushed my wet folds.

  
"- _most_ exquisite-"

  
It was hard and narrow but it was getting thicker-

  
"- _arousing_ -"

  
-and then he was pushing in, spreading my sex, my back arching with the angle of his thrust-

  
"-in _tox_ icating-"

  
_... ohpleasedon'tstop-!_

  
He was thick, I could feel myself stretching to accommodate his alien shape as he slid in, slow but hard and so very, very deep. I was panting by the time he was hilted, my thighs open around his hips, my head thrown back, my skin flushed. He settled against me and held still, a soft growl emminating deep within him.

  
He brushed the hair back from my face, his breathing shallow and controlled. His mouthplates brushed mine. He was trembling. I whimpered.

  
"...I don't know if I can be ... _gentle_ , Joscelyn-" he breathed.

  
Why he chose then, of all times, to use my first name I will never understand. He'd never used it before, and hearing those syllables, _my_ syllables, in that voice of his completely undid me.

  
With a buck of my hips, I clenched around him hard and tight. Along the edges of my sight I saw his expression change, saw his mandibles flare and his mouth open to reveal those sharp teeth. He snarled.

  
_Yes._

  
"Fuck me," I panted, delirious with need. " _Lorik_ -"

  
And that was it for me and coherent words for the rest of the night.

  
He reared back and spread my thighs wide open, pushing my knees to my shoulders and watching as he slid in and out of me. His pace, though slow to begin with, was still hard, forceful, pounding deep and bottoming out over and over as he took me with deliberate aggression.

  
I came after about the sixth stroke, gasping and arched, fingers digging into his fore-arms as I bucked into him, riding out my ecstacy. He gave me no time to recover, however, planting his hands on either side of my shoulders and increasing his speed.

  
Soon enough, my breasts bouncing with every thrust, he was pounding in to me, body curved over my flushed form, one hand buried in my hair to pull my head back, deepening the arch of my spine as I wailed beneath him. Despite his speed and force, it was a tight fit aided only by the slick liquid of his both, a squeeze of flesh into flesh that was almost obscene in its lubcrication. Honey and velvet, wet silk and sleek, tight ripples of muscle, flesh...

  
I can't remember how many times I came. The next bowed my back and had me screaming behind clenched teeth. The third made Lorik snarl and dig teeth into the curve of my shoulder. The fourth came right after the bite mark bled.

  
The fifth had him hooking my knees over his shoulders, ankles crossing behind his cowl; I could feel him deeper that way and he made sure to slow his pace, dragging every inch, making my toes curl as he pushed deep and paused for a breath only to retreat, slow and careful, then to thrust back in again.

  
He withdrew, answering my whine of loss with a growl and a stroke of teeth across my bare shoulder, before flipping me over on to my belly and hoisting my hips high. With a grunt, he was sheathed in me once more, thrusting again, long and slow but so very hard. Different nerves were stimulated for the first time, swollen, throbbing flesh assaulted anew from the different angle. I was clawing the blankets soon enough, burying my face in the pillows to moan. Gods, he felt so good.

  
"No," I heard him hiss, gripping my tangled hair again and pulling my head back, exposing the strangled cry I'd been trying to muffle. " _No_ , Joscelyn... I want it. I ..."

  
He withdrew.

  
"...want..."

  
He thrust in. I jerked and cried out.

  
"...every..."

  
Out.

  
"... _single._.."

He pushed back in and changed his grip to my hips, dig in talons and keeping himself seated deep. "-Sound," he grunted. I felt him pulse insideof me. And thrust. I cried out. He growled.  _"Now, Joscelyn"_.

  
With a shudder, I broke again, my body shameless and drowning in pleasure.

  
Some time later, with his passions tamed but his lust still not sated, I was in his lap straddling his thighs while he sat on the edge of the bed. His hands were again digging into my hips, rolling his pelvis to thrust and withdraw againd and again, the pace languid but purposeful. He was gazing into my eyes, mouthplates parted, breathing harsh to match my ragged panting. He shifted his hands, one straying to the base of my spine, the other cupping the back of my neck. His thumb stroked across the line of my jaw.

  
His piercing eyes had me blushing, his gaze level to mine even this way, mandibles flaring out and down as his eyes began to flutter, his control waning. I was drawn to his mouth, kissing him before I knew it and noting that this time, the affection felt different.

  
Emotions welled up unbidden, making me gasp and wrench back, kiss broken and eyes wide, feeling him stir inside of me. Something was building. It was all building.

  
"Don't-" he breathed, pulling me back, silencing my response with his mouth and his kiss and his tongue. I shuddered and closed my eyes.

  
With a twist and a turn, I was spilled on to my back again, legs guided around his waist with gentle hands, his kiss still unending even as he continued to move against my hips. His tongue stroked along mine, chased by his sharp teeth and accented with the brush of mandibles against my jaw and cheeks and he began to move a little faster, a little harder. His touch ran up and down my thighs, my fingers digging into his shoulders as it all grew too much, too fast. I whimpered into his mouth, pleading, and he groaned around my tongue in response.

  
And then it happened: his hips began to thrust hard, the motions erratic as his peak approached. He broke the kiss with a growl and stared down at me, moving harder and faster, a punishing pace; a satisfied gleam flickered in his eyes as my back arched and I came again, my mouth hanging open and my eyes wide, disbelieving that I had anything else to offer.

  
This time, my release was a long, slow ripple of agonizing pleasure, my head falling back, trembling within and without. He hissed as I clenched, gripped me closer as I sobbed with pleasure, overwhelmed by him.

  
Talons pierced skin as he drove into me, once, twice, and then froze, rigid and twitching, heat flooding me.

  
I came back to myself with the weight of him on me, warm and textured like soft leather, teeth stroking along my neck idly. I murmured his name and he lifted his head, looking at me, stark white markings on a face made true ebony by the shadow of night creeping through the many windows of his home. Outside, it was snowing in earnest.

  
He shifted to his hands, curled over me as he pressed his forehead to mine. A soft growl, almost a purr, filled the air. Despite my blissful exhaustion, I smiled. He chuckled.

  
"Pleased with yourself?" he murmured, stealing a single soft kiss. "You should be, Miss Farrows. That was an _exquisite_ experience."

  
I flushed to the roots of my hair. "Hmm. Frankly, _Mr. Qui'in_ , you aren't so bad yourself."

  
WIth a soft laugh and another stolen kiss, he rolled to his side and pulled me with him, his arms wound tight around me. His clever foot hooked the edge of the forgotten comforter and dragged it up enough for me to pull it over us both. He curled close and tucked me into him; he radiated heat.

  
"Oh yes," I sighed. "I forgot you Turians burn hotter than we do." I pressed into him. "I know it's Noveria and I shouldn't be surprised, but sometimes the cold just seeps in at night and will not go away."

  
He stole a hand into my hair, coaxing a moan from me when he kissed my neck. "Ah. So, is that what you hate about living here?"

  
It took me a moment to remember our conversation at the restaurant. _Was that really only hours ago?_ I wondered.

  
I considered my response carefully and wondered if I should lie. When I didn't answer, he nudged me with his hip.

  
"Come now," he said, rubbing his thumb between my eyebrows. "No need to be so serious about it, I was only teasing."

  
I smiled at him and shook my head. No, I didn't want to be serious at all, not tonight. My eyes wandered to the wall of windows over his shoulder, the swirling white and the faint howl of wind that accompanied it. I squirmed closer to him as I watched the storm.

  
His eyes followed mine, understanding settling on his features. He brought up his omni-tool and tapped out a sequence, the lights lowering gently until they went out completely, letting the storm envelope warm darkness. The reflection from the snow was soft, making the house feel cozy and and safe.

  
Lorik brushed a tangled mess of hair from my neck and kissed my throat again. I loved the way it made gooseflesh rise across my shoulders and down my arms. I murmured at him again and he moved to lay on his back, propped up by pillows to cradle his cowl, drawing me into him until my cheek rested on his chest. He wound an arm around my shoulder and drew the blankets up higher, tucking them in about me.

  
"Sleep now," he whispered, eyes shining in the dark from within his mask of silver lines. "I promise I'll feed you in the morning."

  
Mid-yawn, I laughed at this. "I just might follow you home if you tell me you can cook as well as you f-" I blushed, stopping. I sounded so crass. "...mmm. Alcohol and endorphins and exhaustion don't mix well for me, I'm afraid. Forgive my mouth-"

  
He swooped in, tongue curling along mine, past my lips and stroking deep. I shuddered, dug my fingers into his chest with a groan. A moment lost in the kiss, then he withdrew, pausing to nip at my jaw. "Done. But that is why you should sleep, Miss Farrows. Morning will bring a clear head-"

  
"-and sore muscles, puncture wounds-"

  
"-and I will attend that and your empty stomach come morning, but for now, please rest."

  
I tilted my head back to look at him, really look at him. Despite his jovial tone and cheerful demeanor, he was almost as tired as I was, but as with me, it was exquisite exhaustion.

  
I snuggled back in to him. "Yes, sir,"I sighed, letting my eyes drift closed.

  
I didn't miss his gentle squeeze or the brush of his mouth against my brow. I smiled and let sleep embrace me.

 

 

 

 


End file.
